


Between Us

by Devcon03



Series: Haven, Void and Beyond [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Light BDSM, M/M, Rough Sex, Spanking, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:31:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devcon03/pseuds/Devcon03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between us, it always starts with a hunt. (in which Devcon is an assassin with the soul of a poet)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Us

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: This fic contains rough sex/play, and it's entirely consesual.
> 
> This is the first story created for the RP-verse we've been working with the last 3 years. Anything written for Haven, Void and Beyond takes place after this specific story. There is also /no/ canon to back this up, ever. Therefore; don't like, then please, don't read. 
> 
> Beta-read by Redseeker, but any mistake found goes down as mine.

*~*~*  
  
Endless space above, artificial sky below.  
   
I’m hovering at the very point where spaceport and outer space meet. In my altmode, with my wings spread, my focus changes. It’s made sharp by the complicated urge that spreads like a wildfire through my programming. The cold creeps up on me, but it doesn’t bother me. I’m burning from within.  
  
This is no mech’s land, uninhabitated and solitary. From up here, I study the busy life of thousands of Cybertronians and organics alike. They are so very far below me, they look like toys. It doesn’t lack beauty, this new home of mine. So very well-organized and neat.  
  
It feels good to stretch my wings, to let the pull of gravity tear my joints and claw at my armour. It leaves me in a good mood, as always. Not far from where I am, flyers and ships alike enter the artificial atmosphere in great lines. They don’t take notice of me, thanks to my shields. They kill my signals, all of them. A nice little trick that has kept me alive during my long life. A downright dirty trick, perhaps, but seeing I’m still around, I won’t complain.  
  
A bounty hunter cares little for things like ethics. Fairness does not belong in our trade, and the volatile aggression that fuels my spark comes with the territory. Morals are for other mechs to worry about. _Better_ mechs, indeed. There is nothing resembling good in my programming.  
  
For the time being, I keep my sensors alert, tuned into my whereabouts. The small world of spacestation Void 4911 spreads out below me, ripe for the taking should I like to hunt dangerous prey. And where there’s a hunter, there’s _always_ dangerous prey about.  
  
There’s a reason I’m stalking the sky, and here he comes, cutting through the artificial atmosphere at processor-shattering speed. My programming growls in the back of my head. There he is, the one I’m making myself invisible for. He soars like a cyber-hawk, elegant and unpredictable. Right now, he’s making a lazy loop some hundred feet beneath me, oblivious of this hunt of mine.  
  
I’ve been following my seeker for a solar-cycle or so, tracking him and his antics. Starscream is a wild, dangerous thing, gifted with a wicked processor. He would shoot me straight out of the sky if he knew what I’ve been up to. Specially since it’s for my own amusement and nothing more.  
  
Thus, I keep myself concealed, following him as he spirals and dances along. I copy his movements with ease. I soar and play with him, mimicking his fancy-flying, as he claims the sky as his own. He is all about grace and lethal beauty, but there’s a distinct difference between us. While _he_ own the glorious sky, I own the darkness above and beyond the atmosphere.  
  
I sneak closer, but otherwise stay out of reach. Even with my signal made invisible, there’s still the risk of him sensing _something_ he might connect to my being. Thankfully, I still have a few secrets for him left to discover. The longer he stays around me, the more he’ll come to learn what it truly means to be a hunter. Until then, I’ll cheat. I was made for hunting wicked things, and decieving my prey is a part of what I do. Besides, let’s be honest about it: I _like_ cheating.  
  
This hunt, however, isn’t about killing the prey. It’s about following and tracking him whilst he plays rough. I’m tagging him, circling in on him. And later, when he’s within reach, I’ll make sure he remembers that while he is the uncrowned king of Void’s artificial sky, I am _his_ master.  
  
As for now, he truly tempts me, my Perfect Prey...  
  
My shields suddenly ripple and my wings burn, locking me in mid-air. I’m left suspended and open to attack, unable to move. Within me, my base-coding activates the hunter’s high. It crashes every other running function, this dark essence of my being. Protocols I can’t change battle my spark for dominance. I _want_ to give chase, want to capture him, but I refuse to treat him like anything close to those I’ve hunted my whole life.   
  
In the end my systems come to an agreement, and I’m free to move again, drawn by the soft thrum of Starscream’s engines. My base coding is held back, my hunter programming howls, but my spark masters both. I watch the world beneath me with more than a simple set of sensors, and my vents hiss at the sight of him. I want to get closer, my thoughts all heated.  
  
 _Do you know how it affects me,  what it does to me, seeing you like this? Weavig pretty patterns all over the sky? Dancing, caring for nothing else but the wind under your wings? Aw, smelt. Just_ look _at you..._  
  
Show off.  
  
But, he doesn’t know I’m watching, and I want to don’t intrude upon his dance. It takes all of my self-control to stay put. It’s a good thing he can’t see the conflict inside me, the darkness that my spark holds back. There are times he pushes until I give him a taste of it, and it sends thrills through his frame. He never hides his reactions, and I take pleasure in every response I get out of him.  
  
I’ve hunted for longer than he’s been around. I’m a predator whereas he is an efficient soldier. I’m a follower of my own kind of justice, he a traitor to what once was his cause. His is a treacherous, murderous genius against my single-minded assassin’s base coding. Monsters, the both of us.  
  
My shields flare as he rolls in a lazy manner, wings gleaming like a scalpel. _Oh, Primus. Just look at that..._  
  
Starscream could kill me if he truly wanted to. He could use that shard of his to get the upper hand and crush me. Now, _that’s_ a thrill if there ever was one. He’s practically immortal, but I’m not exactly helpless. To kill me, he needs to catch me first. Only distance could keep me alive, and that’s exactly what I don’t want between us.  
  
He burns like the brightest nova, all lethal, just breath-takingly beautiful. I surround him like the freezing, everlasting void, the dark to his flame. When we meet in the middle, we rip the tissue of the verse, shredding it along with any unwritten law there ever was.  
  
I shake myself out of my musings when Starscream comes too close. I hide and watch him dive. He’s truly having fun. He weaves loops around several towers, playing a risky game of tag with spaceships taking off. Sensors tuned to his flight, I amuse myself with a hundred different calculations on how to match his reckless manoeuvres. He lowers himself a bit more and makes yet another crazy dive, this time moving over to the cluttered area behind the port.  
  
He slows down and starts scanning the entire place, as if searching for something. When he suddenly stills, I recognise the change in his energy field. _Oh_... Now, this will be interesting; the seeker has found something to play with. May Primus have mercy on its spark.  
  
I move with him, shields ready to make a jump if he suddenly changes his processor and heads up again. Not a beat later, Starscream transforms to rootmode and hovers, helm tilted, arms in position. He’s the very picture of a spoilt crown-prince, demanding the world to bow for him. Something has caught his interest and he’ll have it _right now_ , thank you very much.  
  
Oh, but I _love_ him, and so does my programming.  
  
The brat-prince sets out to take what he wants, moving like a sleek cyber-cat, balancing on ship-wrecks and broken junk. He’s all perfect lines and burning, sharp optics. He cuts through the debris just as easily as he bedazzles the inhabitants of the spaceport. I watch him, calculating his greatness, seeing him as what he truly is – a highly ranked Commander. My engines rev in his honour. There’s no mech but Megatron to match him, or so they say.  
  
Well, slag. They obviously never met _me_.  
  
I’m the cold to his heat, death to his eternal life. And, unlike inferior models, I easily keep his pace. We both know that I outmach his speed. I _also_ know that whatever he is up to down there will only feed my infernal need to tame his undying life-source. I stalk the sky like a wraith, just waiting for the great show-down. There is silence, and then-  
  
Light, flashes, mayhem, _screams_.  
  
 _Ahh_. That might explain a bit; he’s found a lair with something he likes. Judging by the way he moves, how rapidly he fires, he’s enjoying himself thoroughly. I know that he’ll leave no mech alive, and steal everything he likes. If I was a good Autobot, I’d stop him, but I’m not. I won’t interfere, won’t move any closer. It would be wasting a perfect hunt.  
  
As I circle the scene, I see his pulse cannons tear through the walls, wrecking everything in their way. I hear his delighted laughter as the screams go from horrified to terrified.  
  
It’s good to see Starscream’s true nature. I’m actually fond of him, just the way he is. Besides, you can’t take the ’Con out of a mech once he’s crossed that line. That mean Decepticon streak of his – the way his wicked programming craves destruction and the sweet kill is all a part of my mate. Yes, I could dive and destroy his little fun, but then again…  
  
It would be useless. By now his victimes are either dead or hurt beyond help, and there’s nothing I can do for them.  
  
Instead I study Starscream’s behavior. I’ve done this before, those first delirious cycles when we first met. I’d never seen anything as desirable as Starscream. I’d never met something as vicious as myself, either. Oh, most ’Cons are crazed, but my Dancer...?  
  
Beautifully arranged chaos.  
  
If my mate is a monster, then I’m the bigger monster in this equation. I’ll never let him forget how we differ. Yes, of course he can kill me, but then he’d kill his very spark. Starscream wants it for himself, and what the seeker wants, the seeker gets.  
  
*~*~*  
  
Yes, I know how to set a trap, and catch my prey. What no bot managed to understand is that you have to offer something your prey won’t be able to resist – in this case, I let him have a taste of the brightly burning centre of my being. It’s such a nice spark, don’t you think?  
  
 _It’s_ _yours,_ I told him.  
  
*~*~*  
  
It’s late now, or so my chronometer tells me. Starscream returns from his little trip with a sharp, asymmetric smile in his face. Haven’s doors lock behind him as he enters, looking every bit pleased.  
  
In the semi-darkness, his optics burn steadily. I’m lounging in our booth, enjoying the sight of him. There is energon splattered all over his frame and my engines growl at the proof of his evil ways. Starscream turns his helm slowly, and as our optics meet a sudden tension fills the air.  
  
 _Yes_ , I tell him with nothing but a little nod, something is just _waiting_ to happen. Starscream looks searchingly at me, suspicious as ever. He changes his stance and makes himself bigger. He spreads his wings, holds them high, and I notice the slight trembling in the tips.  
  
He’s ready to bolt, but there’s the slightest whisper of interest there too. When we lock optics again, I give him a slow smile. Recognition dawns upon him. No words are needed in this dance, we both know the steps. I savour the silence as I molest his frame from helm to heel, and back to his optics.  
  
Today I’m his master, no matter how high his position in life actually is. As his master, I’ll never chain him down, nor will I force myself upon him. I’ll give him everything he craves and demands of me, and in return, I’ll ravish everything he is.  
  
I draw a deep intake, then purr.  
  
“Mine.”  
  
It’s no more than a soft growl, but Starscream still looks startled at my claiming of his most precious self. I shift in my seat, looking straight at him, and that’s when it happens – he turn and flees. If he’s fast enough, he might manage to get out of the bar, but I don’t give him time to escape.  
  
Before he realises what’s going on, he's trapped beneath me, face-down. He snarls at me, annoyed and flustered. I know that if he wants me off him, he’ll go for my thighs, giving me no option but to let go. I can’t take that pain, and he knows it. Besides, we both know he’s perfectly able to fight me off, as with everything else in life. Not even death could hold him back - he just bounced right back.  
  
I’m sure Megatron isn’t the only mech to curse this miraculous gift of his. Unlike Megatron, however, I’m no fool. I know the worth of what’s writhing beneath me, hissing in annoyance. I don’t want to let go, and I enjoy pinning my seeker to the floor. This mech was meant to be kept, be spoiled and held above everything else. I won’t make the same mistakes others have made. I won’t let him down.  
  
Starscream growls all of a sudden, almost pushing me off him, but I’m bigger, heavier and more experienced in the art of keeping a prisoner down. And thus, I simply mirror every move he makes. Later he’ll have to patch me up, which is a part of the fun. Where the seeker schemes, I calculate. When he aims and shoots, I jump. If he snarls, I growl back.  
  
Balance in every single aspect.  
  
Ah, such a pair we are. Primus didn't see this coming, did he? Well, neither did I, but I’m not late to harvest the fruit of this most unholy reunion.  
  
I won’t complain about the scratches and neither will Starscream. He’ll take everything I dish out and he’ll beg for more, putting his own marks on my frame as we battle for dominance. Later this cycle, there will be tender caresses to ease the ache. There will be the kind of tenderness that is born out of pained pleasure and sated frames. Now, however…  
  
Starscream yelps, then shudders. My mouth is sealed around the upper edge of his left wing. I nibble finely tuned sensors, licking lazily as I go. One of my hands find its way down to his aft, fondling it playfully. He whimpers, unable to hide his inmediate response to my tactical groping. It angers him, and he kicks me viciously. When I grunt in protest, he catches my thruster between his, locking me in place.  
  
It’s hard to move like this, but that doesn’t stop me from biting his neck. He gasps and curses me. He calls me brute, slime, and my favourite insult – _Autobot_. I grind down, forcing my way in between sleek thighs with a wicked grin. He won’t get the upper hand in this little fight, not this time. Starscream snarls and turns his helm, promptly sinking his fangs into my arm. I cry out, then avenge my poor sensors with the tweaking of sensitive wing-tip. I rub it until it’s hot, all hyper-sensitive.  
  
Starscream pulls back, keening loudly. I shift above him, rocking into his aft. It’s getting hard to process, but I concentrate on one thing at the time. His wing, my glossa against it. I take the edge between my lips, and the harder I suckle, the more he squirms. When I nibble a delicate node, he shudders and is suddenly very busy raking his claws all over the floor instead.  
  
I envy his passion, I always did. Starscream is far more alive than any other mech I’ve met. He draws me to him like a moth to a flame, and I burn as we touch. Guided by the rise of his core temp and the way he pushes back into my frame, I continue pleasuring his wing. He spreads his thighs and angles his hips, and I groan. Yes, frag, _yes_...!  
  
I want to best him, I truly do. I want to _own_ him. I want to see him twist and howl beneath me – I want him to give me the sobs I crave. And so I dare myself to lay down on top of him, relaxing my frame entirely. My spark pulses, aches, at the sight of all the brightly coloured lights moving, dancing, over his frame. I rest my faceplate on his back and stare at the display in wonder.  
  
“Beautiful.”  
  
My vocals, set low and rough, make him turn his helm. I don’t move. He keeps still, even as my hand rubs his aft, feeling it up. This time he doesn’t snarl at me. He never does, when my tone changes and becomes this soft and dark. My programming reads his reactions as I move and lift myself over him again. My spark longs for his touch, calling out in my chest.  
  
While my actions started out all rough, there’s no place for cruelty between us. He trusts me to keep my instincts in check, and, for the right to love him, I do.  
  
It’s _always_ a battle, and not just between us. Inside me, there’s a real war going on. I can’t lie to myself – my hunter programming is still adapting to the everlasting tracking, chasing, and trapping of a 'Con _without_ the termination that would have been the next step. I _need_ to hunt him and trap him, take him down. I want to devour him, but a very small part of me also wants to kill him. It’s just my base coding, and I fight it, force it to adapt to the changes in my life.  
  
I don’t want him to worry about my glitches, and so I whisper dark things into his audios, things about how he looks, how precious he is to me, and how bad I want to draw those sweet moans out of him. They will keep keep my inner monster pleased, as always.  
  
Starscream reacts so nicely when I manipulate the seams of his panel. He is on the verge of submitting, and I knead the delightfully curved plating, fingers rubbing the right spots. He meets my optics and lifts his aft for me. There’s a tiny hiss, and I draw a deep intake, savouring the scent of his arousal, of his lubrication. My fingers slide against the tender folds, all wet. I touch and rub, play with his valve, but never breach.  
  
He whines in frustration, faceplates nicely tinted. His vents whirr to life, and I purr. Oh, but his wish is my command, always.  
  
Testing the waters, I slap his aft lightly, reading him carefully. He lets out a strangled groan, but doesn’t snap at me. Next time, I put some strength behind my hand, and he snarls loudly. He’s needy, but not quite ready to beg. I hold a hand over his back, standing on my knees behind him, and I stroke his aft after every slap.  
  
I make it as good as possible for him, making sure to mark him properly. Those marks will be gone far too soon, but that’s all right. I’ll just put a few new ones on his frame, marking him as mine. The sting is intense, but so is the pleasure that comes only a beat later. Starscream kicks and writhes, yelping loudly. Within a few klikks he’s groaning, panting hard, and now there’s no need for that hand over his back. He stays where he is.  
  
I _could_ make him count the slaps, but I don’t think it’s needed. There are other ways to break him, and so I lean down, licking his audio.   
  
“I watched you kill them,” I tell him, trying to explain why I’m being the hunter, and not the jovial mech I usually act like. I rub the rim of his valve, loving the heat, the promise of exquisite pleasure.  
  
Starscream freezes and turns his helm, optics round. _Ah_ , yes… I’m still an Autobot, aren’t I? He likes to remind me often enough. Good for him that I never was good at _being_ one. My panel slides back and I give him a grin that makes his valve tighten up around my fingertips. I stop moving altogether now, refusing to take it any further until I know that he wants this.  
  
After a beat he snarls, his face is full of emotions. He bares his denta and presses his valve against my spike, fangs gleaming. He bumps into me again, snarling at me to get on with it. I sigh in relief; I’ve been accepted. A small growl escapes me, and that’s about all the warning he gets before I grab his hips and thrust in.  
  
I’m too big, and Starscream howl echoes in the bar.  
  
”F- _Fraaaag!_ “  
  
I fight my self-control, clinging to it like there’s no tomorrow. Starscream whines, digging his claws into the floor. He hisses at the stretch, but his valve is slick enough to accept me, _all_ of me.  
  
”Mmm, that’s a _good_ seeker,” I say, vocals darkened by pleasure. I know he’ll inspect those marks later, and they’ll serve as a reminder of how sweet being caught can be. His pride will never let him admit to such a thing, but I’ve learnt to read between the lines of the insults he throws at me.  
  
I give him a moment to adapt to the stretch, and then set a slow pace. He likes that, always did, and as I go deep and hard, he fights to keep his moans back. I don’t mind. I might have started this, but Starscream’s the one in control now. I’ll give him what he wants, and how he wants it. In the end, when we both are on the verge, unable to hold back, I’ll have what I want too.   
  
In between loud snarls, I watch the precious mech pinned beneath me. He moans and shudders, clinging to the floor. My processor is a dark thing, so very cold it burns. I suddenly wonder if _he_ ever had Starscream like this. If that old fool grabbed Starscream’s pretty wings to use as leverage, if he left invisible, searing hand-prints on his aft. Did he drill deep and hard enough to have the mighty Air Commander cry out in bliss and pain, and still demand more?  
  
Did Megatron ever worship my pretty bird at all? I bite down on a growl, watching my mate writhe. I worry my lower lip, vowing that I’ll give Starscream everything he wants, everything he needs.  
  
Starscream pushes himself up onto all fours and turns his helm, watching me as he groans. He scowls at me, wants me to go faster. I don’t mind giving in. The balance still holds; I’ll follow his lead, as always, and I need it just as bad as he does. I lean over him, snapping my hips. As he cries out, I realise that the understanding between us that goes deeper than love, deeper than simple need.  
  
Starscream bucks and twists beneath me, on the verge of coming. I angle my hips and he gives a high pitched yell. Another rough, deep thrust and he’s coming, violently. His valve, all slick and tight, clamps down on my spike. I _like_ that. I grab his shoulders and force him to arch like the sleek hell-cat he is. I fuck him faster, using him for my own pleasure. He yowls, tenses, and comes a second time.  
  
Is that a growl? Can’t have that, can we? Before Starscream regains his wits, I grab both his wings and pull him up against my bulk. There’s a copious amount of transfluid covering his slender thighs, the scent heady and sweet. Later, I’ll lick it off him, and I tell him how much I enjoy it. He moans and slumps against me, entrusting me with his tired, aching frame. His hands stroke my thighs and I know that he needs more.    
  
“Open,” I command, my vocals made rough by need.  
  
He surrenders with a low groan, nuzzling the side of my helm. He bares himself for me, and I growl. That chamber is _mine_ , all mine. It’s dark, empty, _hungry_ , but I claim it as mine. It’s sacred, and I worship it. It’s mine to fill, to light, mine to kiss. Starscream knows what it means, when I ask this of him. He knows that it will make him sob and scream until his vocals glitch, but he needs me to push him over the edge.  
  
I change my pace, thrusting slow and sweet. I pant against his audio, murmuring prayers to the one god I hold above myself. My fingers tremble when they reach the chamber, touching with utmost care. I am as gentle as possible now, but it doesn’t take more than a small caress to sensitive components before Starscream arches. He turns into a wild thing in my embrace, all howling, trying to escape.  
  
I don’t stop, I keep the rhythm even – fucking him and rubbing his chamber. I tell him everything I love about him until he breaks. Now he’s begging me for more, for less. He clings to me, howling in bliss.  
  
Begging becomes him, truly. Lost in ecstasy, my seeker is beautiful.  
  
*~*~*  
  
In the end, it’s all about a hunt.  
  
I hunt him.  
  
I take  him.  
  
I claim him as mine, but the truth is that he owns _me_. And that will never change.  
  
*~*~*


End file.
